intercession
by astarisms
Summary: During the fall, Natalie pleads for Lucifer's pride. Fairy AU.


**Notes:** This is a prologue of sorts to a fairy au being planned out on tumblr. Fairies are said to be angels who didn't choose a side during Lucifer's rebellion, and were thus punished, though less severely than the fallen. If you want to know more, you can find stuff about it on my blog (same user) tagged "fairy au", or you can PM me!

* * *

It's so loud. There had been a tense silence all day and suddenly it had exploded into a cacophony of clashing and screaming, it rings in her ears and makes her head pound.

(It's so loud she can't hear herself think, but she doesn't need to — she knows where she's going.)

She rushes past Jophiel and his troops, angels fighting their brothers and sisters like it's the end of days. Her stomach turns at the carnage and she swallows hard at the resounding chants of Lucifer's name.

Lucifer. Where is he?

It's so dark. There had been shadows all day and suddenly there was fire and smoke raging across their home, it burns her eyes and suffocates her lungs.

(It's so dark she can't see where she's going, but she doesn't need to — she knows to follow the chorus.)

She rushes past Zadkiel and their troops, angels pinning their brothers and sisters and ripping their wings from their backs. Her knees give out at the barbarism and she stumbles at the shrieks of agonized grief.

Lucifer. She has to find him.

She doesn't find him, but she does find Michael on a mission, his face solemn in a way she hadn't seen before. Her heart gives a painful twist in her chest.

"Michael!" she calls, but her voice is all but drowned in the flood of sound. She pushes forward with renewed vigor, because she can't let him do what she thinks he's going to.

She catches his arm and he turns on her, sword raised. She releases him and lifts her hands in surrender. His expression softens, but only just so, and only enough for the pain to slip through.

She can use that.

"Michael, please," she says, breathless. Her own back aches where her wings are attached, and her voice wavers. "Please don't. Don't do that to him…"

He hardens again almost immediately and ignores her pleas entirely.

"Whose side are you on, Natalie?"

"What…? I'm not — nobody's side!"

"You're either with us or with him."

"No, I — I'm not. You're both being ridiculous! Michael, please, let me talk to him, we can end this. There doesn't need to be anymore fighting. Just don't — please don't…" Her voice catches on a sob.

There's silence for a long minute, where Michael just stares at her.

"With us or against us, Natalie. There is no middle ground."

He turns away from her and she screams at his back. She screams until her throat burns. She screams until she can't anymore.

Her chest feels tight and she looks around, frantically, trying to pinpoint where Lucifer is. She needs to get to him before Michael does, she needs to stop this. His wings are his everything, and she would rather give up her own than see his torn from him.

But she can't find the center of the chanting through the deafening sound coming from every side. She can't find the light of his wings through the smoke and the fire surrounding her.

It's a guessing game, and by the time she circles back around, it's too late, because Michael is curled with Lucifer's beautiful wings in his lap, and Lucifer himself is gone.

Blood rushes through her ears, and her vision swims.

"Michael," she moans in despair, her voice rough from overuse, and she feels tears burn her eyes. Her stomach turns at the blood tainting the beautiful, vibrant colors. She falls to her knees in front of him, and she notices that there are only two.

He looks up at her, and there's something in the blue of his eyes that turns the blood in her veins to ice.

She's almost afraid to ask, especially with the glare he's giving her, the tremble of his jaw, but she does anyways.

"The others…?"

"...Leave," he says, and there's a strain to his voice she's not accustomed to. Not from him.

But she understands his answer and she knows better than to argue so she scrambles to her feet, and runs. She runs until the clash of war is distant. She runs until there is nowhere else to go. She runs until she realizes that no matter how hard she tries, she can't outrun this.

She falls to her knees again, and she buries her fingers in the ground, trying to hide how hard they're shaking. Doubled over, she gasps for breaths she doesn't need.

And on the ground, away from the fighting, away from the screaming and the smoke and the fire and the blood, she lets her heart break and she sobs.

She cries, relieved that she had managed to save at least four of the six. She cries, grieving that she had not managed to save him.


End file.
